This road is like his life; knee deep in shadow. Once, it had been the quickest way home and he'd taken it easily, turning onto its potholed surface without a second thought, rarely noticing how the earth dropped away on either edge. His mind had been on other things back then, on the minutiae of everyday life. Chores. Errands. Schedules. And he hadn't taken this route in years. Just the thought of it had been enough to make him turn the steering wheel too sharply; better to go off the road than to find himself here. Or so he'd thought until today.
The writing is on the wall. All I am waiting for is the final confirmation. An ending I can see from a mile away, yet still, it will knock me off my feet. So this is my proclimation that I will follow my own advice, and not bargain my future with outcomes. I understand what I want and how I want to live, and I will reach for it despite the failures that come my way. Forward is the only motion I have ever truly understood. The only direction that can make sense of the loss, that can perhaps, even one day, even restore it.
